


the smell of smoke

by BonesOfBirdWings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, I didn't mean for it to be this angsty, Worldbuilding, boys go to college to get more character development, wizarding university
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/pseuds/BonesOfBirdWings
Summary: Gregory Goyle writes a thesis.





	the smell of smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [primeideal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/gifts).

“I still can’t believe you of all people got accepted to the Horst Institute,” Pansy said, sipping her tea. They were in one of the fashionable cafes located in the minor alleys that branched off from Diagon Alley. It was also quiet and discreet, which was important.

“Because I’m stupid, you mean?”

Pansy made a moue of hurt. It was obviously fake. “I wouldn’t say it quite like that.”

“Pansy,” Greg said, “I’m very aware of what all of our schoolmates thought of me. Gregory Goyle, too stupid to tie his own shoes, and Vincent Crabbe, who probably thought that a book was something you eat.”

Pansy looked away, uncomfortable. Greg was used to this reaction to Vince’s name now. Somehow it seemed that he was the only one who’d managed to come to terms with his best friend’s death. The irony didn’t fail to escape him.

“You almost failed your classes,” Pansy pointed out, powering through the awkward silence. “Multiple times.”

“Yeah,” Greg agreed. “I didn’t give a shit about school until OWLs came and smacked me in the face. But then I powered through the last couple of years and made it out with respectable NEWTs. So. There’s that mystery solved, I guess.”

“I didn’t…”

“What? You didn’t know? You didn’t notice? Yeah, I know,” sighed Greg. “Honestly, that’s not important now. It would have been important to me ten years ago, but that ship has long since sailed.”

Pansy bit her lip, toying with her teacup. Greg realized in a flash of insight that Pansy felt _guilty_, which wasn’t an emotion he’d ever expected from her. Again, that would have been something that he’d have appreciated ten years ago, but not now.

“Listen, Pansy,” he said, reaching across the table to rest his hand near hers. “There’s nothing… I didn’t come back to England to pick at old wounds. As far as I’m concerned, they’re… they’re healed. Okay? I’ve moved on.”

Pansy was silent for a long moment. Then she moved her hand to tentatively cover Greg’s. “It’s just strange,” she told him. “I expect him to be right next to you. It’s like… there’s an empty space where he should be.”

Greg extracted his hand from hers. He very carefully didn’t let any of his pain show. It was old anyway - old and familiar. He didn’t want Pansy to fixate on it. He shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. “Perhaps for you. As I said, I’ve moved on.”

Pansy nodded. “I… I can see that,” she said. She set her teacup down with a decisive clink and leaned towards Greg. “What do you need from me, then?” she asked bluntly.

Greg pushed aside his empty plate as well. Time to get down to business. “Books,” he told Pansy, “books, and for you to vouch for me.”

“Vouch for you in what way?”

“Vouch for me with Draco,” Greg clarified.

Pansy frowned. “Why would you need me to do that? You and - I mean, you were closer friends with him than I was.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Greg conceded. “But that’s not… I saw the wedding announcement.”

“Ah,” Pansy nodded, leaning back in her chair. “I would be surprised that it made it all the way to Germany, but…”

“Yeah, Harry Potter’s a big deal nowadays.”

“We can’t seem to shake him,” Pansy replied with a smirk. Greg laughed. “Unfortunately, Greg, I don’t have much pull with Potter. So if you were trying to go that route...”

“No, no.” Greg sighed. “I’m explaining this poorly. I’m trying to do research for my thesis, but some of the seminal works in the field are English in origin, and no copies really made it across the channel.”

“Oh.” Pansy whispered. “It’s Dark Arts.”

Greg dipped his head in a shallow nod. The Horst Institute was known as one of the more “free-thinking” magical universities, even when compared to other universities on the continent. Some of the most controversial papers of the last century had been published by Horst faculty. Greg wasn’t surprised that Pansy had made the leap, not when the Malfoy book collection was rumored to be one of the best Dark Arts collections in Britain.

“But really, Greg,” she continued. “Draco’s engagement hasn’t changed him _that_ much. You could just ask.”

Well, Greg wouldn’t be able to dance around the subject forever. Best just to take the Hodag by the horn.

“It’s about Fiendfyre. My thesis, that is.”

“What?!” Pansy shrieked. Only a quick catch by Greg rescued her teacup.

“Merlin, Pansy,” he hissed. “Keep it down.”

“What the fuck, Greg,” she hissed back. “Fiendfyre? Like the spell that killed your best friend?”

“I know how Vince died, Pansy,” Greg snapped. “I was there. I saw it, I heard it, I live with the memory of it every day of my fucking life.”

“So why the hell -”

“He cast that spell, Pansy,” Greg interrupted. “He cast it and it got away from him. And you know what? The Wizarding World doesn’t understand why that happened. It certainly doesn’t understand how. No one knows how the hell Fiendfyre has the sentience it does, or why it fights against the caster’s control. Britain seems happy with the ‘poetic justice’ of dark wizards being taken out by their own spells, but on the continent, there are a bunch of us that want to know the answers.”

Pansy buried her head in her hands. “I can see why you’d want me to intercede with Draco,” she said after a moment, her words muffled.

“Yeah,” Greg replied ruefully. “This went over great, and you weren’t even a witness to Vincent’s death. Or, you know, engaged to the poster boy for Anti-Dark rhetoric.”

“Yeah.” Pansy laughed. “Yeah. Although Potter isn’t quite as bad as you’d expect….”

“That’s not saying much,” Greg pointed out, and Pansy laughed again.

“Fair,” she conceded.

“So,” Greg ventured after a pause, “will you do it? Will you ask him?”

Pansy sighed, biting her lip like she always had when she was nervous. “I suppose,” she finally said in a rush. “Hey, hey,” she added when Greg gave a little cheer. “I have some stipulations.”

“Of course you do,” Greg replied, mood too buoyant to be put off by Pansy’s caution.

“I want to see what you have already.”

“Sure, if you swear not to steal the research.”

“Why would I… Ah.” She nodded. “Standard practice?”

Greg grimaced. “Dark Arts research is, predictably, a cutthroat field.”

“Makes sense.” Pansy paused. “And I want to read it at the end.”

“Yeah?” A smile pulled at the corners of Greg’s mouth.

“Yeah,” she stated firmly. “He was… he was my friend too.”

“It’s not a memorial to him, Pansy,” Greg warned.

“Mmmm,” Pansy hummed. “Isn’t it, though? In a way? You want to understand why… well, why it turned out this way. And I won’t say that he’d understand the urge. I do know for certain that he didn’t share your academic focus the last couple of years.”

“No,” Greg laughed. “No, but he’d sit with me in the library anyway. He’d doodle the stupidest things -”

“Oh Merlin,” Pansy broke in. “That’s right - I’d almost forgotten about his drawings! They were so good!”

“Yeah,” Greg agreed, “when he tried. When he was just scribbling doodles, they’d go from normal drawings to these… I don’t even know. Sometimes they’d be hilarious and sometimes they’d be terrifying. You’d never know what he’d turn out.”

Pansy rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Do you miss him?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Greg said. “Of course. He was my best friend. Closer than a brother. That first year, I’d forget he was gone, for a second, and it was like a kick in the gut when I remembered. But now it’s just an… ache. A vague wish that it’d all turned out differently.”

Pansy nodded. “He’d be proud of you,” she said suddenly.

Greg huffed out a laugh. “No offense, Pansy,” he replied. “But you don’t know that. I appreciate the sentiment though.”

“You’re at the Horst Institute, Greg,” she pressed. “The Horst Institute. None of us thought you’d get even close to that level of education. But I mean, Vince… You’re right. I didn’t know him. I didn’t know either of you. But it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Vince thought you could do anything.”

“Thanks, Pansy,” Greg said, and he meant it.

“Yeah,” she replied with a bob of her head. There was something suspiciously like tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. “Anyway,” she changed the subject briskly, dashing a hand across her face, “your research. I’ll ask Draco, but don’t be surprised if he wants to talk to you himself.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.” That would be a fun conversation.

“Are you going to be in Britain long?” she asked him as they finished up their tea.

“Long enough to get the sources I need,” Greg said, although he knew that wasn’t a real answer. “Maybe six months?” he hazarded.

“Do you… do you want to meet up again?” Before he could answer, Pansy continued quickly, “There are some books in my family’s collection that might be useful.”

“Yeah, let’s do this again,” Greg replied with a smile. “With or without the books, Pansy. It’ll be good to see you again. I… I missed you all too. More than I thought I would.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said. “I missed you too, Greg.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this prompt caught me and wouldn't let me go and I banged this out in two hours. Sorry for the angst - i just wanted goyle to go to university and study Fiendfyre but then crabbe became the most important character who wasn't even there. Anyway, i hope you liked it!!


End file.
